The day after the inquest, Sidney Bolton's body was buried in
Gartley churchyard. Owing to the nature of the death, and the
publicity given to the murder by the press, a great concourse of
people assembled to witness the interment, and there was an
impressive silence when the corpse was committed to the grave.
Afterwards, as was natural, much discussion followed on the
verdict at the inquest. It was the common opinion that the jury
could have brought in no other verdict, considering the nature of
the evidence supplied; but many people declared that Captain
Hervey of The Diver should have been called. If the deceased had
enemies, said these wiseacres, it was probable that he would have
talked About them to the skipper. But they forgot that the
witnesses called at the inquest, including the mother of the dead
man, had insisted that Bolton had no enemies, so it is difficult
to see what they expected Captain Hervey to say.

After the funeral, the journals made but few remarks about the
mystery. Every now and then it was hinted that a clue had been
found, and that the police would sooner or later track down the
criminal. But all this loose chatter came to nothing, and as the
days went by, the public - in London, at all events - lost
interest in the case. The enterprising weekly paper that had
offered the furnished house and the life income to the person who
found the assassin received an intimation from the Government
that such a lottery could not be allowed. The paper, therefore,
returned to Limericks, and the amateur detectives, like so many
Othellos, found their occupation gone. Then a political crisis
took place in the far East, and the fickle public relegated the
murder of Bolton to the list of undiscovered crimes. Even the
Scotland Yard detectives, failing to find a clue, lost interest
in the matter, and it seemed as though the mystery of Bolton's
death would not be solved until the Day of Judgment.

In the village, however, people still continued to be keenly
interested, since Bolton was one of themselves, and, moreover,
Widow Anne kept up a perpetual outcry about her murdered boy.
She had lost the small weekly sum which Sidney had allowed her
out of his wages, so the neighbors, the gentry of the surrounding
country, and the officers at the Fort sent her ample washing to
do. Widow Anne in a few weeks had quite a large business,
considering the size of the village, and philosophically observed
to a neighbor that "It was an ill wind which blew no one any
good," adding also that Sidney was more good to her dead than
alive. But even in Gartley the villagers grew weary of
discussing a mystery which could never be solved, and so the case
became rarely talked about. In these days of bustle and worry
and competition, it is wonderful how people forget even important
events. If a blue sun arose to lighten the world instead of a
yellow one, after nine days of wonder, man would settle down
quite comfortably to a cerulean existence. Such is the wonderful
adaptability of humanity.

Professor Braddock was less forgetful, as he always bore in mind
the loss of his mummy, and constantly thought of schemes whereby
he could trap the assassin of his late secretary. Not that he
cared for the dead in any way, save from a strictly business
point of view, but the capture of the criminal meant the
restitution of the mummy, and - as Braddock told everyone with
whom he came in contact - he was determined to regain possession
of his treasure. He went himself to the Sailor's Rest, and drove
the landlord and his servants wild by asking tart questions and
storming when a satisfactory answer could not be supplied. Quass
was glad when he saw the plump back of the cross little man, who
so pertinaciously followed what everyone else had abandoned.

The wooing of Archie and Lucy went on smoothly, and the Professor
showed no sign of wishing to break the engagement. But Hope, as
he confided to Lucy, was somewhat worried, as his pauper uncle,
on an insufficient borrowed capital, had begun to speculate in
South African mines, and it was probable that he would lose all
his money. In that case Hope fancied he would be once more
called upon to make good the avuncular loss, and so the marriage
would have to be postponed. But it so happened that the pauper
uncle made some lucky speculative shots and acquired money, which
he promptly reinvested in new mines of the wildcat description.
Still, for the moment all was well, and the lovers had a few
halcyon days of peace and happiness.

Then came a bolt from the blue in the person of Captain Hervey,
who called a fortnight after the funeral to see the Professor.
The skipper was a tall, slim man, lean as a fasting friar, and
hard as nails, with closely clipped red hair, mustache of the
same aggressive hue, and an American goatee. He spoke with a
Yankee accent, and in a truculent manner, sufficiently annoying
to the fiery Professor. When he met Braddock in the museum, the
two became enemies at the first glance, and because both were
bad-tempered and obstinate, took an instant dislike to one
another. Like did not draw to like in this instance.

"What do you want to see me about?" asked Braddock crossly. He
had been summoned by Cockatoo from the perusal of a new papyrus
to see his visitor, and consequently was not in the best of
tempers.

"I've jes' blew in fur a trifle of chin-music," replied Hervey
with an emphatic U.S.A. accent.

"That's so; I was, that is. Now, I've shifted to a dandy
wind-jammer of sorts that can run rings round the old barky. I
surmise I'm off for the South Seas, pearl-fishing, in three
months. I'll take that Kanaka along with me, if y'like,
Professor," and he cast a side glance at Cockatoo, who was
squatting on his hams as usual, polishing a blue enameled jar
from a Theban tomb.

"I require the services of the man," said Braddock stiffly. "As
to you, sir: you've been paid for your business in connection
with Bolton's passage and the shipment of my mummy, so there is
no more to be said."

"Heaps more! heaps, you bet," remarked the man of the sea
placidly, and controlling a temper which in less civilized parts
would have led him to wipe the floor with the plump scientist.
"My owners were paid fur that racket: not me. No, sir. So I've
paddled into this port to see if I can rake in a few dollars on
my own."

"I knew that you had stolen my mummy. Yes, you needn't deny it.
Bolton, like the silly fool he was, told you how valuable the
mummy was, and you strangled the poor devil to get my property."

"Go slow," said the captain, in no wise perturbed by this
accusation. "I would have you remember that at the inquest it
was stated that the window was locked and the door was open. How
then could I waltz into that blamed hotel and arrange for a
funeral? 'Sides, I guess shooting is mor'n my line than
garrotting. I leave that to the East Coast Yellow-Stomachs."

Braddock sat down and wiped his face. He saw plainly enough that
he had not a leg to stand on, as Hervey was plainly innocent.

"'Sides," went on the skipper, chewing his cheroot, "I guess if
I'd wanted that old corpse of yours, I'd have yanked Bolton
overside, and set down the accident to bad weather. Better fur
me to loot the case aboard than to make a fool of myself ashore.
No, sir, H.H. don't run 'is own perticler private circus in that
blamed way."

"Well, not exactly. The window was snibbed, but that was done
after the chap who sent your pal to Kingdom Come had got out."

Do you mean to say that the window was locked from the outside?"
asked Braddock, and then, when Hervey nodded, he exclaimed
"Impossible!"

"Narry an impossibility, you bet. The chap who engineered the
circus was all-fired smart. The snib was an old one, and he
yanked a piece of string round it, and passed the string through
the crack between the upper and lower sash of the window. When
outside he pulled, and the snib slid into place. But he left the
string on the ground outside. I picked it up nex' day and
guessed the racket he'd been on. I tried the same business and
brought off the deal."

"It sounds wonderful and yet impossible," cried Braddock, rubbing
his bald head and walking excitedly to and fro. "See here, I'll
come along with you and see how it's done."

"You bet you, won't, unless you shell out. See here" - Hervey
leaned forward - "from that window business it's plain that no
one inside the shanty corpsed your pal. The chap as did it
entered and left by the window, and made tracks with that old
corp you want. Now you pass along five hundred pounds - that's
English currency, I reckon - and I'll smell round for the
robber."

"And where do you think I can obtain five hundred pounds?" asked
the Professor very dryly.

"Well, I guess if that blamed corpse is worth it, you'll be
willing to trade. Y'don't live in this shanty for nothing."

"My good friend, I have enough to live on, and obtain this house
at a small rent on account of its isolation. But I can no more
find the sum of five hundred pounds than fly."

"No, I've got nothing; not even that five hundred pounds you make
such a fuss over. It's a wasted day with H.H., I surmise.
Wait!" He scribbled on a card and flung it across the room.
"That's my Pierside address if you should change your blamed
mind."

The Professor picked up the card. "The Sailor's Rest! What, are
you stopping there?" Then, when Hervey nodded, he cried
violently, "Why, I believe you have a clue, and stop at the hotel
to follow it up."

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't," retorted the captain, opening the
door with a jerk; "anyhow, I don't hunt for that corpse without
the dollars."

When Hiram Hervey departed, the Professor raged up and down the
room so violently that Cockatoo was cowed by his anger.
Apparently this American skipper knew of something which might
lead to the discovery of the assassin and incidentally to the
restoration of the green mummy to its rightful owner. But he
would not make a move unless he was paid five hundred pounds, and
Braddock did not know where to procure that amount. Having long
since made himself acquainted with Hope's financial condition, he
knew well that there was no chance of getting a second check in
that quarter. Of course there was Random, whom he had heard
casually had returned from his yachting cruise, and was now back
again at the Fort. But Random was in love with Lucy, and would
probably only give or lend the money on condition that the
Professor helped him with his wooing. In that case, since Lucy
was engaged to Hope, there would be some difficulty in altering
present conditions. But having arrived at this point of his
somewhat angry meditations, Braddock sent Cockatoo with a message
to his step-daughter, saying that he wished to see her.

"I'll see if she really loves Hope," thought the Professor,
rubbing his plump hands. "If she doesn't, there may be a chance
of her throwing him over to become Lady Random. Then I can get
the money. And indeed," soliloquized the Professor virtuously,
"I must point out to her that it is wrong of her to make a poor
marriage, when she can gain a wealthy husband. I will only be
doing my duty by my dear dead wife, by preventing her wedding
poverty. But girls are so obstinate, and Lucy is a thorough
girl."

His amiable anxiety on behalf of Miss Kendal was only cut short
by the entrance of the young lady herself. Professor Braddock
then showed his hand too plainly by evincing a strong wish to
conciliate her in every way. He procured her a seat: he asked
after her health: he told her that she was growing prettier every
day, and in all ways behaved so unlike his usual self, that Lucy
became alarmed and thought that he had been

"Then your wish is granted: you do see me happy. But I won't be
happy long if you keep bothering me to marry a man I don't care
two straws about. I am going to be Mrs. Hope, so there."

"My dear child," said the Professor, who always became paternal
when most obstinate, "I have reason to believe that the green
mummy can be discovered and poor Sidney's death avenged if a
reward of five hundred pounds is offered. If Hope can give me
that money - "

"He will not: I shall not allow him to. He has lost too much
already."

"Well, apply," she snapped, being decidedly angry; "it's none of
my business. I don't want to hear anything about it."

"It is your business, miss," cried Braddock, growing angry in his
turn and becoming very pink; "you know that only by getting you
to marry Random can I procure the money."

"Oh!" said Lucy coldly. "So this is why you sent for me. Now,
father, I have had enough of this. You gave your consent to
Archie being engaged to me in exchange for one thousand pounds.
As I love him I shall abide by the word you gave. If I had not
loved him I should have refused to marry him. You understand?"

"I understand that I have a very obstinate girl to deal with.
You shall marry as I choose."

"I shall do nothing of the sort. You have no right to dictate my
choice of a husband."

"Yes, I would, if my misery is to be the price of its
restoration. Why should I sell myself to a man I care nothing
about, just because you want a musty, fusty old corpse? Now I am
going." Lucy walked to the door. "I shan't listen to another
word. And if you bother me again, I shall marry Archie at once
and leave the house."

"I can make you leave it in any case, you ungrateful girl,"
bellowed Braddock, who was purple with rage, never having a very
good temper at the best of times. "Look what I have done for
you!"

Miss Kendal could have pointed out that her Stepfather had done
nothing save attend to himself. But she disdained such an
argument, and without another word opened the door and walked
out. Almost immediately afterwards Cockatoo entered, much to the
relief of the Professor, who relieved his feelings by kicking the
unfortunate Kanaka. Then he sat down again to consider ways and
means of obtaining the necessary mummy and still more necessary
money.